


Silent Sorrow

by JLKnox



Series: How Brio could actually work... [4]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 3x04 Bar Scene, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad News, Brio in bars, Canon Compliant, F/M, Internal Monologue, Miscarriage, Rough Oral Sex, Sex as Coping Mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLKnox/pseuds/JLKnox
Summary: Beth decides to drop the bomb on Rio -- and neither of them is prepared for the reaction.====="You couldn afford it."An that makes me think about how much I would pay for her. I take her in, from the bar, up her chest, to her face. Thinkin bout her worth to me – as a partner, as a babymama, as the only thing I’ve wanted in a long time – an realizin I ain’t ready to pay out on this.Losin the baby an her in the space of five minutes is just too much for my brain to compute. There’s no value I can place on it.An then like a ray of light the same color as her hair, she asks what would happen if she had the cash.I look at the bartender wiping down glasses tryin to not hear our conversation. When he makes eye contact, I say, “You’re closed.”
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: How Brio could actually work... [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657150
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Silent Sorrow

It’s infuriating, not having his number anymore: no more slightly-coded text summons from either direction…having that line open. Not knowing that he _wants_ to see me. Not knowing where he’s working out of so I can’t get myself excited and try to calm down by taking the most circuitous route possible to there. Some of it is the lack of comfort of him, but a lot of it is actually the coldness of rejection – not being on the inside. Not knowing where Dags is; not knowing what Mitch thinks of me; not knowing where I fit – or if I do anymore.

Lying in a bed that isn’t a lie anymore, now that I’m not sleeping with Rio, but with Dean’s horrible drool on my pillow and the floppy weight of his arm on my middle, I’m awake with thoughts racing. I can’t stand it anymore. It’s time to find out what exactly is going on. How his resurrection changes things.

If he’ll keep me alive when given the chance.

It’s almost as late at night as it was the first time: when I was fixing the stop sign on the corner. The same sedan sits in the same place, but I know I won’t be fucking the driver. And I have a different destination in mind than the gun “range”.

Text come in from m’boy, Mick.

“b2e20”

I ain’t gettin away from dis fer least an hour, but Elizabeth can sip a diet soda til I get there, I guess. Between Mick an my bartender, she ain’t leavin in one piece. Even if I could, I wouldn’t go now – I ain’t at her beck’n’call no more. Nottat I ever was.

Since I got back, I been trynta put my finger on wha’s different. Goddamn, I still want her. An I coul find a reason ta _not_ kill her. Guess I didn think it through when I cided t’have her shoot me. Didn realize it’d make this…distance. Didn realize she’d try ta take care my family. Didn realize jus zactly how much she could piss me the fuck off.

Maybe I jus thought too positive – I’d go t’Canada fer while, come back, find out she took care a bizness while I was gone, step back inta everythin. Matchin guns, matchin lives, matchin wants.

Stead, she gave my gun t’Turner an went back to D-bag – back t’bein Beth. Curled up an took money from a frien instead of gettin it fer herself. Rolled over an let BB an Elizabeth die.

I ain’t want Beth.

I wanna see Elizabeth again.

Hell, I’d take Boss Bitch for a moment if it meant we coul get back to where we were.

I text Mick back.

“Babysit. e75”

I put all dose thoughts in a pot an let em simmer while I make sure I get what I need to know from one a my ol crew who ran out on Dags while I was gone. I let Dags start on dis one, an I sure he done good, but I want this rat to see who’s back. An who’s boss.

===

Lil more dan an hour later, I walk inta the bar I jus bought. It’s in a quiet part a town – plenty a dead hours between shift changes at the factories that are still operatin, which ain’t many. I don take my eyes off her as I greet Mick. An fuck if it ain’t Three-Bourbon-Beth sittin on dat stool.

I ain’t seen her like this since the day I hit it while husban was at work. Since she tole me she done. An even then, she was only on two, ordered her third after I got there. Here she is, all three sheets flyin.

She either trynta kill the baby – or she already did.

I shoulda figured that out: another verdict, another summons. Now steada tellin me whether it’s me or her kids, she’s tellin me our kid ain’t any more. 

Like that other day, I don’t look at her when I sit down. I ain’t good at bad news.

Slap my hand on the bar as I take my stool. Fold my hands, just like that day. Hang my head, glance at her quick, an when she stay focused on her own glass, look back at my folded hands again.

Sometimes I wish she’d just text this shit.

Right. She ain’t got my new number. I breathe out slow, not ready t’be angry.

I see her head move an she ask the bartender over her shoulder for a shot a tequila.

I can’t ignore that. My hand goes to my scalp automatically – guess I got a new nervous tick – an I open the conversation, tryn not to let my anger show.

“You might wanna slow down, yeah?” It comes out gentle enough.

“We never got to toast,” she say, voice low, expression flat. In another time, she use that voice to lure me in, but right now it the least sexy thing on the planet. At least she have the decency t’look chastised. “One for my baby daddy here, too.”

The drinks set down, an she reach for hers; I can’t help it – I stop her, my fingers on her pulse point with jus enough pressure to get across.

The only answer is that the baby’s gone, which I don wanna hear, but she ain’t volunteerin information, so I ask.

“What are you doin, Elizabeth?”

She turn to look at me an her expression ain’t sad anymore; her eyes an lips turned down but I can tell her face is numb from the booze. She picks her hand up but mine stays there as if she hadn’t, even still poised like I was holdin her still.

“I lost it.”

An there it is.

I can’t keep my face straight so I move that hand to cover my mouth an hold my head. I didn’t think she could hurt me more than the day she “fired” me, fucked me, then kicked me again. I thought I was done with takin pain from this momma. I thought the distance that grew up between us would keep me safe from whatever she threw.

But I never stopped to think whether I wanted that kid.

I didn’t realize that my body made that decision for me without sayin.

That I had already decided to be its dad – not jus take care of her while it bakin – but ready to have a kid…wit her.

I keep starin at her face, waitin for it to be a lie. To be not in enough pain, to look like she fakin. I know she still ain’t a great liar, which is why I got so fucked up at the doctor.

But she breathe in deep, holdin back tears.

“When?” The word come out softer, gentler than I meant. I hafta turn away from her so she can’t see. I look back down at the bar. I fold my hands together again. Not reassuring enough, not tellin her I know she hurtin.

An I know she hurt us both when she put my money by the bed. But this time, we both hurt, together.

Don’t seem different, but it is.

It really is.

“Does it matter.” She ain’t askin, but there’s no tone to her voice. Maybe disbelief that I could be so callous. I donneven needta know. It just came out my mouth. Not sure what else to do or say to cover up the icewater injection spreadin through me.

I look back at her. Try ta think of sumpin t’say. Stead, I pick up the shot glass.

“All right, then.” An I take my shot. While she watches.

She could look away. Give a man a moment.

Lookin at the empty glass, I let out the fire in my mouth. Feel the emptiness that rushes in after it an settles, right under my lungs. Breath don come easy; s’like I stop. My whole body stop.

An the realization follow – I ain’t got no reason not to kill her anymore.

One cloud feels lonely, eh?

Dammit, Marcus gotta stop watchin that bunny movie on repeat. It freaks him out an apparently makes me maudlin.

Her brain is on her own life – since she still have it for now, unlike our kid – an she asks what’s next.

I ain’t thought that far ahead. I thought I had months, maybe a year with nursing. The only answer I got croaks slowly out my mouth as I shake my head slow. “Nothin good.”

“How much would it cost?”

Bizness brain kick in an I’m asking “For what?” before I have a chance t’realize what she’s askin. Of course I know for what, but there already whispers an rumors an guys makin moves like that kid tonight.

“My life”

My head shakin even before she say it. “Ah, nah, too late for that.” I push away my glass an put my hands back together. I know it’s my tell, I know she know I do this when I can’t risk trynta keep my face blank. But right now I donneven know what emotion come out. Grief? Anger? Resentment?

An then she get in my business. She couldn’t keep it goin while I gone an now she gonta press me bout it?

“You haven’t been in the game for what, two months?”

“Don worry bout it,” comes out my mouth too fast, too low. I can’t keep things from BB an she know it.

“No pills, no cars, no cash? It’s gotta hurt.”

I’m too defensive when I cut her off. “Yeah, you dunno my interests.” I look at her finally, trynta put her back down with a glare – as if that ever worked, especially right after she pounce right after emotionally trippin me up.

I try to reset, slowly look away. Eyes front, not down.

“I know they need capital,” she say, an I chew the inside of my cheek. She ain’t wrong. This bar took mosta what I had liquid, an it a front for games I ain’t playin yet. She still starin at me, voice low and dead. “And your guy could chop me up into a million pieces whenever you want, so what do you got to lose?”

Can’t help it, I flinch away when she talk about Mick killin her because he already tole me twice over he’d do it for me. My head turn even farther away from her, but it’s the wrong choice cuz I see him in the corner, crackin his knuckles.

I chew my lips an laugh at myself: stuck between a boss an a bitch. Crippled an hobblin from losses I wasn’t prepared for. I really am outta practice, it’s my job to be four steps ahead. She even said she miscarried in the past an I didn’t let it enter my projections.

Shakin my head, I answer, cuz I know I can’t justify any amount to my guys – or to other crews. “You couldn’t afford it.” An that makes me think about how much I would pay for her. I take her in, from the bar, up her chest, to her face. Thinkin bout her worth to me – as a partner, as a babymama, as the only thing I’ve wanted in a long time – an realizin I ain’t ready to pay out on this.

Losin the baby an her in the space of five minutes is just too much for my brain to compute. There’s no value I can place on it.

An then like a ray of light the same color as her hair, she asks what would happen if she had the cash.

I look at the bartender wiping down glasses tryin to not hear our conversation. When he makes eye contact, I say, “You’re closed.” When he starts to say somethin back, I look at Mick an flick my eyes at the worker. He gets up, goes behind the bar, and escorts the guy out the back employee exit. It auto-locks behind them. I know Mick could use the smoke break, but he also has a set a keys.

I get up, an of all the emotions typhooning round my self right now, anger has its say first. S’good; anger’s easy. I walk over to the front door, put my shakin hand out, and turn the deadbolt.

“You mean to say.” I pull on the door handle to make sure it’s secure, still lookin forward. “You took money.” I spin slowly on my heel. “From Rhea.” Jam my hands in my pockets. “To pay your mortgage.” Pull out a small knife. The next part comes out fast as I slide over the floor to jam it –closed—under her neck. “But you got enough cash to buy your life from me?”

She’s froze, head up, words tight.

“I didn’t have it then. I was trying to go straight – Turner was watching my every step – Dean had already taken my kids once.”

“Yeah, I r’member.” I step back, flashing back to that day _again_ and shakin my head to blur the mem’ry. “S’what changed?”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head like I’m stupid.

“You came back? Told me you had to do something ‘strong’ and acted like you were going to eventually kill me?”

“Still might.”

“Great. Well, I’d like to make sure my kids are taken care of before that happens, so either I’m going to get the money and pay you OR I’m going to get the money and put it in trusts that Dean can’t touch.” She scoffs. “Lord knows he’s an even worse Jacuzzi salesman than car salesman. Oh. Shit. I mean ‘personal spa’.”

Her scoff is a full-out snort this time, and I have to bite back a giggle. Hard to be hard while you’re gigglin.

“Personal.

Spa.”

She breaks into actual laughter now an it so good to see her anything cept zombified, I find myself laughin, too. She actually smacks the bar for a second and tries to catch her breath. “You know… you know he used dye to cover his grays?” Her howls hoot an echo through the empty space. “Like no one would notice?”

“Fer reals?” I ask, like I’m hearin telenovela plots from my moms. “I thought he usta look all distinguished an shit.” I tsk an perch back on the edge of the stool, facin out away from the bar; I lean back so I can see her face. Just cuz, I still twirl the knife through my fingers an the sight of it cut through her laugh. “You know, I think ol Carman would be lucky to sell dry wood to a Native Alaskan.” That get another small chuckle.

“So what’s it gonna be?” she says, all bizness again. “Am I giving the money to you? Or to the bank?”

“Aww, ma…you know bankers is crooks.”

“And you are…?”

“I jus play the game, darlin.” She roll her eyes so hard I hear a lil gasp of pain, but that’s okay. It somethin other than walkin dead. “I think… if you gonna give me the cash…Imma need enough for a substantial investment in a new interest.” I look back at her. “I ain’t usually let my enemies buy their way out.” Her nod is slow and pensive. “$100K”

Her swallow is visible and audible.

“One hundred. Thousand.”

I hold her gaze an keep it. First time I’ve had the upper hand in this conversation. Then I show I don’t care by pullin out my phone. I’m still watchin her chewin on that while I text Mick. 

_You’re off-duty. She work tomorrow. Report back at her place 7pm._

I get back the _K_ an look back up at her.

“How you doin, momma?” She look like she drownin on land an not gonna lie – Imma lil concerned.

I just about lose it when he asks how I’m doing. I’m fucking confused as hell is how I’m doing – and have been since he got back. I was so focused on flipping this around that it never even occurred to me he might want this baby.

Certainly, none of his behavior up til now prepared me for that.

But there was a moment, when I was in it, bringing up all the things I felt after my miscarriage before Jane, when I saw that look on his face. It was the same one Dean had when I told him back then; I can’t believe there’s anything those two share, but there it is.

It looked like it took him by surprise, too, so I moved on to the second agenda-item as a kindness. Wanted to give him something concrete to hold on to instead of that his child was dead. Which means I’m trying to talk business while I’m mired in all the same emotions I dragged up in order to be convincing for him.

So when he asks, I answer about that and not the money – which is overwhelming on its own.

“I’m Three-Bourbon-and-a-Tequila-Beth. How do you think I’m doing? I just had my second miscarriage and on top of that it means you can kill me.”

“Yeah, that’s rough.” And his face goes back to the sad version of blank that he thinks is just blank. It’s harder to see though, because he’s facing backwards at the bar and he moves his head out of my sightline.

“Even with the booze…I feel … empty.” And I do. I’m stuck in those memories and it was so tangible afterwards, like I could have stuck my entire hand up inside and still had room to hear an echo. I didn’t try, though, because Dean was sobbing in a corner and instead, I had to take care of him. At least Rio’s trying to keep his grief to himself.

Funny that I don’t want him to. I couldn’t stand Dean’s pity-party, but I can see what Rio’s trying to hide and I just wish he would let it out. Even though this memory isn’t his – even though the reason for his grief isn’t real – I don’t want to be alone with my feelings right now.

“How about you?” I look up and give him my best bambi-eyes.

“Well I gotta kill or extort my babymomma cuz she miscarried my kid after trynta kill me. How you think I’m doin?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

We just kinda look at each other, mournfully, until we can’t anymore.

“TB&TB, you gonna stand up anytime soon?” It takes me a minute to put those letters to words and realize that I might be more drunk than I should. “I got things to do sides babysi—shit. Ma, I’m sorry.”

I realize he was going to say babysitting, and my breath hitches. I sniffle but don’t cry and I push the stool back and you know what they say – you’re not drunk till you stand? Well, I am happy to say that I am not drunk yet… because I am also not standing.

His arm shoots out and catches me, my weight halfway between the barstool and the floor, at an awkward angle for us both.

“I suggest ya fix this, Elizabeth, cuz I am certain y’ain’t wanna be on that floor.”

I find my feet and shift my weight, leaning on the stool as he slowly straightens up. He’s there, next to me, helping me. Still in my memories, I think of everything I wanted Dean to do for me when I was going through this. I wonder if I can help Rio get those things by asking him to give them to me.

“I’m sure this … this has happened to you before.” I’m looking back up at him and his face is less guarded. He shakes his head slowly.

“Maybe, but I ain’t know about it if it did.” I touch his face with my whole hand, not just the pinky, and cup his full cheek.

I look around but the room is filled with uncomfortable wooden restaurant chairs. “Is there someplace we can sit? Even if it’s just your car?” I take a deep breath and my chin trembles. “I don’t think I can stay standing.”

He blows air through his nostrils and takes me into the men’s room – ew. We walk to the end and he opens a janitor’s closet with a key. There’s a couple shelves with paper products but we’re in a longer hallway and he bolts the door when it closes. Around a corner, there’s another door and it opens into what looks like a staff lounge: a long low sofa, a chair with stuffing coming out, and a TV/VCR combo with a stack of comedies from the 90s.

He sits me down on the sofa and goes to move to the chair.

“Will – will you sit with me?” I ask. He shrugs and sits down a respectable way apart. “Closer?” I ask, barely audible. He scoots in.

“Thought you might wanna stretch out.” I shake my head against his shoulder.

“I’ve been alone with this,” I say. “I just want to feel…human…again?” I think back to the days following and how much worth I put in being able to be a mother. I had felt like a failure of a human, of a woman. I felt ashamed of being relieved, because I wasn’t sure a fourth was a good idea. But I’m not relieved now because this failure – even fake – means I might end up dead.

I lift up my shirt to just under my bra-line. “Will you?” I take his hand and place it above my belly button. He looks at me and his fingers twitch, squeezing then smoothing. My voice is a tiny whisper. “There should be something there.”

He looks at me and it makes me feel awful – which makes my expression no longer a lie. What kind of person am I that would put him through this kind of pain? But I didn’t know…couldn’t have known…when I started, that he would end up attached. I know he loves Marcus, but I just thought…

“Sokay, mom—Elizabeth, sokay,” I say, immediately regrettin sayin anything “mama” or “baby” related at all tonight. “You’re human. It don’t mean you ain’t.” I lean over an I kiss her belly under my hand. “Shit happen in this life – that don’t mean nothin. It’s just bad.”

Sittin up, I pull her closer an put my other hand on her back, under her shirt. Her hand clasp the back of my head an I lean into her shoulder. She leans over an stretches us out on the couch, she’s the big spoon. I feel her liftin up my shirt from the back, an she presses her warm skin right up against mine. Wrappin her arms around me, under my clothes, we stay skin-to-skin, tightly, for a while.

Eventually, I turn around to face her. Let her see the tear tracks down my cheeks, although they ain't wet anymore. I gotta know; I ain’t wanna ask, but I can’t help it.

“Did…did you wanna keep it?” I regret it instantly when her lips pull down at the corners and her eyes look confused.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.” I breathe out slow and hard and try not to crush her hips where I’m grabbing them. She pulls up the front of my shirt and presses us skin-to-skin again. “I was taking time to think.” Time for her to breathe out slow. “I just know how I feel now.”

“Empty.”

“Yes. Empty.” She looks in my eyes. “Worthless.” Her hands slide down to my hips. “Unwomanly.” She finds my belt buckle and I pull back. “Like a reject.” Her eyes look hurt at my reaction, an that word – reject – seem to echo in the room.

“You ain’t a reject.” I move her hands to my sides, realizin my actions don match my message. “It was prolly me,” I say, lookin down. “It took us a while to get Rhea pregnant. An before her, if I was a baby daddy, no one tole me.” I can feel her shake her head. “It’s one a the reasons I was suspicious. Doc said Rhea was fine an I had to jump through all these hoops to get things goin.”

She looks at me with pity – I shoulda shut up. “I didn’t know,” she said, reaching out for my face.

“Yeah, well, it ain’t yours to know.”

“It is now,” she say, an my heart break. Cuz I still gotta kill her if she can’t get it together. She take a deep breath in. “But now…” she stretch the word out til I look back up at her. “I don’t want to feel empty right now.”

I jerk back an sit all the way up. “Ain’t you …” I look down at her jeans. “Uhm, ain’t it sore? Or can you …get infected?” She nods and crosses her legs as she scoots down the couch.

“I know. Yeah, that’s not a good idea.” She licks her lips and looks pointedly at my belt. “C’mere.”

I know I shouldn’t. I almost can’t. But there’s no can’t as far as mi pito concerned when it comes to Elizabeth. Every inch of her – in an out – is zactly what I want.

“Are you sure?” I ask before I stand.

“Please,” she nods, “please, if you can.”

I’m not lying – not emotionally – and I haven’t been all night. I remember wanting this afterwards, even though after the DNC I wasn’t able to for days. It was the only way I could think of to feel like me again. I just wanted something to fill the space.

He pulls down his pants and shorts in one motion and steps out of them. My breath is quick and sharp and although it’s only been a matter of weeks, the sight immediately makes me feel better. He’s long and slender everywhere: legs, toes, cock. He still maintains the short hair at the base, but he’s only half-hard at best.

I sit up and lean forward, licking my lips and parting them just slightly. He moves a little closer and I reach out with my hand to bring him to my lips. I remember that night when he was waiting for me at home and how he made me do this in order to give me validating reactions.

I remember liking the feel of him getting harder while he was in my mouth. First, I lick around his softish head, running my tongue over the ridge and bringing it in to hold gently in my teeth. Since he isn’t fully erect yet, I take the opportunity to get all of him in, pulling his ass as close to me as possible.

She literally slurpin me up like pasta, her nose pressed against my pubes an my half-stock swirlin round in her mouth. Then like a film in reverse, she pull backwards, lips pullin the entire length of me out slowly. I can feel every inch a me against that tight hole, her lips pursed around me, lightin up every nerve.

Two months. Two months a long time, an my knees feelin weak already. Her breathin is deep an I look down t’make sure she ain’t cryin. “You sure, darlin. You donnnnnnn…” my words dry up as her jaw clicks an I feel myself slidin all the way down her throat.

Goddamn, she wanna feel full, I can fill her. Fuck yeah. I thrust farther in, her throat clenchin round me an gettin ready to bust a nut when she pulls back. I take a breath an look down, totally willin – though a lil pissed bout timin – to give her a break.

But her hands are on my thighs, tuggin me toward her as she lay back on the couch. With a minute of motioning, I get that she wants me to straddle her chest an we make adjustments on the sofa. One hand grips mi verga again and rubs it all over her face while her other hand reach down to mes cojones an guides them to her tongue.

I hear a lil whimper come out my throat, an feel warm, wet pressure on my tender balls. Dark spots float in my vision an I grip the couch back to stay upright. Tugging very gently with her teeth, she sucks the first one all the way into her mouth an reaches for the second with her tongue. Her gag reflex kick in an I find myself pantin reassurances. “You ain’t wrong…that’s a mouthful, E…” I couldn’t manage to say her whole name.

Her head nods an I hiss, “…tender….” so she slowly releases me, emptying her mouth.

“I want you to fuck my mouth like a cunt,” she whispers commandingly.

“But…” that ain’t the same anatomy, not sure how I gonna do it. Bitch has the audacity to smack my ass.

“Do it,” she orders, “fill me up.” She tilts her head down an I use my hand to adjust myself, pressing against her lips an teeth. She opens up an adjust her angle; I slide in with her tongue helping me. Tightening her lips around me, she moans, and I feel my way until my head bumps up against the back of her throat. I’m bout 2/3 in, so I take note not to go much farther than that.

I pull out slowly an thrust back in a lil faster, repeating it with her tongue an lips doin a damn good job of imitatin a pussy. Buildin up speed, I worry about the booze she drank, but if I slow down her hand on my ass pinches or smacks. Soon I’m slammin into her, tryin not to go too far, but too far gone to really know. Her gagging sounds are replaced by groans that vibrate against me, makin me want more more more. My balls slap her chin an I’m shoutin, “Oh damn, damn, damn,” with one hand in her hair an the other grippin the couch til my fingers white as her.

She say the point to make her feel less empty, so I don’t think twice bout askin… when I feel the clench come, I shoot right down her throat. She start swallowin round my head an that make me lean back to shove more in her mouth. The warm flood of my load soaks her face an neck an my balls an ass. She’s tappin on my thigh an her choking sounds are diff’ren; exhausted, I pull back an out.

It’s easiest just to dismount from the couch, an it chilly, so I move right away to put my pants back on. She reaches her hand out for me, so I take it an she pulls me down again, on top a her. We drift in an out fer a bit, but I ask, “Feel better? Full?”

She squirms an moans underneath me and says, “You don’t even know. Sooooo full.” I don’t move my head, but it make me smile jus a lil to hear that. “And like a woman.” I feel my grin get bigger.

“All woman, all the time,” I mutter, “entirely, totally, hunnerd percent woman.”

After a bit, she start shiftin aroun, an I wake all th’way up. She say somethin bout pins & needles, an I know I got more to do tonight. We get up, adjust things, an get in the car to drive her home.

I’m not sure we’re good, but I feel much better. My shoulders are lighter and my chest cavity feels warm somehow. Recreating that feeling and getting what I wanted – hoping that I was also giving comfort – _beyond_ cathartic.

We don’t touch or talk most of the way home. I want to make a joke about taking money off my total as “in kind” payment, but I know he gets fired up over the idea that I might ever feel coerced. As we get closer to my subdivision, though, something strikes me.

“I don’t church anymore,” I start, and he looks over at me quickly. “I don’t church and part of the reason is that after my mis…first miscarriage…one of the people there told me that my baby was too good for this world and God called it home.”

He lets out a long, slow, breath. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck, ma… that some fucked-up shit right there.” His mouth smiles but his eyes don’t as he continues, “Remember that bitch’s name?”

I shake my head and try to hide my smile by looking out the window. I suppose he can still see it in the glass, though.

“No, but it makes me think.” I’m not sure how he’ll react, but the more it bounces around in my head, the truer it feels. I look back his direction and he’s slowing down to make a left. He looks at me again. There’s no traffic. He doesn’t turn, just waits for the rest. “I don’t think the world is ready for the person we’d create.”

He sees my smile and lets out a short pop of laughter. He nods and shakes his head at the same time, before making the turn.

“Bet.”


End file.
